


The Boggart of Grimmauld Place

by SeriouslySam



Series: Moments in Time [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggart, Sirius and Harry bonding, ootp missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeriouslySam/pseuds/SeriouslySam
Summary: Ever since Harry Potter learned to cast a Patronus Charm, he wasn’t afraid of Dementors anymore. When staying at Grimmauld Place, Harry discovers what his new worst fear is when he finds a Boggart.
Series: Moments in Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800097
Comments: 4
Kudos: 134





	The Boggart of Grimmauld Place

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Arnel for always looking over my writing.

**“The Boggart of Grimmauld Place”**

Harry Potter stood next to his godfather staring at a giant grandfather clock in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. Remus Lupin stood in front of them, peering at the antique clock in mild interest. The clock had become a line of contention in the house. Someone had fixed the clock to chime every hour on the hour. Loudly. Sirius was adamant that Kreacher had _fixed_ the blasted thing to wake up Walburga Black’s portrait so the house-elf could hear her delicate tones no less than twenty-four times a day. Not to mention all the times that Tonks knocked something over or when an Order member would knock at the front door ( _“The audacity of some people, Remus. I think they want me to go insane by making my mother constantly scream.”_ ) or when Molly Weasley would yell at the twins.

Sirius suggested casting an Exploding Charm to rid the house’s occupants of the clock’s offending noise, but Remus insisted that they carefully dismantle it in case it was not Kreacher who had fixed it. Harry honestly didn’t care what they did with the clock. He was just glad to be included in the project. He was sick of cleaning out curtains full of Doxies and scrubbing the stained carpets. In fact, the Weasley children and Hermione were tackling yet another bedroom and bathroom combination upstairs with rags and cleaning supplies to make it inhabitable in case a member of the Order of the Phoenix needed a place to stay. Harry would much rather stand in the drawing room throwing out ideas of how to get rid of a grandfather clock than to be on his hands and knees scrubbing a floor.

“What if we open it and take out the mechanism that enables it to work?” Remus inquired as he stared at the pair behind him.

“I don’t bloody well care. I say demolish the whole thing and be done with it,” Sirius replied.

“You honestly think I care about a clock that belonged to Walburga?”

“It could be valuable,” Remus reasoned while Sirius snorted.

“Trust me, once this is all over with and I no longer have to hide out in this hellhole, I plan on burning down the whole ruddy house. I don’t care about anything in this house except for the people currently living in it.”

Harry glanced up at his godfather to see his jaw tight and his arms wrapped defiantly in front of his chest.

“Sirius,” Remus sighed.

“You think it’s so valuable, have it. It’s yours, Remus. Take it to your cottage and polish it up all nicely. Then, sell it and do whatever you want with the money. I just want to sleep through the bloody night tonight and not listen to that chiming every hour on the hour,” Sirius continued on his tirade. “I’m sick of getting out of bed to close my mother’s bloody curtain to stop her screeching. You know what, take the clock and figure out a way to take that portrait down and I’ll give you this house for free. It’s yours, Remus, just put me out of my misery.”

“Are you quite done?” Remus questioned with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

“I’m offering you a whole bloody free house in exchange to take care of two things that are the bane of my existence and you’re asking me if I’m done? Last time I offer you anything,” Sirius retorted with a hint of a grin.

“Yes, well, as much as I appreciate your offer made in a moment of madness, I can’t accept said offer. I’m not going to be the one to take Harry’s inheritance,” Remus said calmly as Harry’s brow furrowed.

“My inheritance?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t want to be the heir of a family known for being filled with Death Eaters and beheaded house-elves? You don’t want to inherit Walburga’s enchanting portrait and a crotchety house-elf that just won’t die? Should I rewrite my will?” inquired Sirius playfully as he clamped a hand to the back of his godson’s neck.

Harry looked up at his godfather with his heart beating oddly in his chest. He never thought about being heir to the Black family. Hell, he never even thought he’d be left anything if his godfather died. It wasn’t something he expected or gave a thought until they stood in the drawing room staring at the blasted grandfather clock.

“I just… didn’t know I was in your will,” Harry said lamely.

“Well, I wrote it when you were probably two months old. I just left you everything,” Sirius admitted. “To be honest, nothing’s really changed in the past fifteen years to even revise the will.”

Harry’s throat narrowed as he blinked several times while focusing with all his might at the grandfather clock. Sirius’ warm hand disappeared from his neck as his godfather stepped forward with his wand out.

“Fuck it, Remus, I’m just going to blow the thing up,” Sirius declared as he raised his wand up until it was level with his chest.

“I don’t know why I even bother sometimes,” Remus replied with a sigh as he took a step back to stand beside Harry. “You never listened to me when we were kids. I don’t know why I thought anything would change into adulthood.” 

“If I would have listened to you in school, we wouldn’t be friends and I would have died in Azkaban,” Sirius said in a tone that sounded incredibly too cheerful for the words spoken. 

“It was rather moronic of you and James to insist we stay friends after you found out I turned into a murderous werewolf every month,” Remus responded dryly. “Even more moronic when you two came up with the idea to attempt to illegally try to become Animagi.” 

“Effie and Flea would have disowned James if he stopped being friends with someone over a little thing like becoming a werewolf once a month.” 

Sirius looked over his shoulder with a glint in his eyes. Remus merely rolled his eyes and mumbled, “ _Little_ thing?” Harry’s brow furrowed. He had never heard the names Effie and Flea before. 

“Who’s Effie and Flea?” inquired Harry. 

The smile fell from Sirius’ lips as his wand arm fell limply to his side. He turned around to face his godson with a clear look of disappointment. Sirius tapped his wand against his thigh. Harry shifted uncomfortably from the look and was unsure why his question had garnered such a negative reaction. 

“Your grandparents,” Sirius said softly. “Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. Do you really not know anything about them?” 

“My grandfather’s name was _Fleamont_?” Harry questioned and pulled a face. 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or to thank his lucky stars that he wasn’t named after him. He could only imagine the things that Snape and Malfoy would say if he had been named after his grandfather. Fleamont… what an entirely unfortunate name. He had a sneaking suspicion that Ginny would rather enjoy that tidbit of information. She had a thing for unusual names. She had named Pigwidgeon after all. 

“Yes, he hated his name,” Sirius continued in a slightly strangled tone. “He became an excellent dueler because of all the bullying he was subjected to. Your grandmother insisted it was a strong name. In fact, she named your dad James Fleamont Potter much to your grandfather’s chagrin. You never knew your dad’s middle name, did you?” 

“No,” Harry whispered quietly. “People don’t really tell me specifics about my parents. I get told I look like my dad with my mother’s eyes. I get told they were brave and smart. My dad was good at Quidditch. Nothing… personal, I suppose.” 

“Well, I think that it’s time for Remus and me to correct that,” Sirius promised as he cleared his throat. 

“We can tell you loads about your dad, Harry,” Remus said carefully. “Sirius knew your grandparents very well as he lived with them for a while. Your mother may be another story. We knew her when she was older but I don’t know very much about her childhood or even much about her early years at Hogwarts. She wasn’t exactly… _fond_ of us in the early years.”

“Who wants to blast a clock now?” Sirius’ voice was thick as he changed the subject quickly and turned back to the grandfather clock. 

Sirius raised his wand arm once again. He flicked his wrist almost lazily and a loud _BANG!_ sounded as the spell collided with the clock. Harry ducked to the ground with his arms flying over his head to protect himself from airborne debris. He heard Remus swear uncharacteristically and hiss Sirius’ name from somewhere to his right. Harry tried to peer around the room but only saw a cloud of dust and debris lingering in the air. He couldn’t make out anything as he began to cough. 

Once the cloud of dust settled, Harry looked around the room to take in the damage from the blast. He was only vaguely aware of Walburga Black’s portrait screaming in the distance. Laying in front of where the grandfather clock had been moments ago was his godfather. Sirius lay motionless with his mouth gaping open. There was a trickle of blood that slid down his pale face from his temple. His eyes were open and his gray eyes were lackluster. 

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. Something must have hit him when Sirius blasted the clock into pieces. Huge chunks of the grandfather clock were scattered around the room and everything was covered in a thick, white layer of filth. He crawled forward as his heart hammered in his chest uncomfortably. Sirius had not moved, had no twitched, had not even blinked. Reaching out a shaky hand, Harry’s fingers grazed his godfather’s cold cheek. His insides turned to ice. 

“Sirius?” Harry croaked. “Sirius?” 

“Harry,” Remus’ distorted voice called behind him as though through a water-logged radio. 

The teenager paid no attention to his former professor. He was too engrossed in the still body of his godfather. Harry felt himself start to shake, his limbs twitching violently. Bile rose in his throat as his vision became blurry. 

“Sirius!” Harry shouted. “Wake up, please, Sirius, wake up.” 

Harry’s hands moved to his godfather’s bicep and he started shaking the man with all of his might. He willed the man to blink. He just wanted him to blink. A dry sob escaped his lips. One hand left his godfather’s arm and furiously wiped away a stray tear that had escaped from his eye before they could fall onto his cheek. 

“Sirius!” Harry bellowed so loudly that he thought his throat may rip in half. 

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped themselves around his chest and pulled him backwards. He struggled against the confinement. He just wanted to sit with Sirius a little longer and attempt to wake him up. His godfather wasn’t dead. He was just unconscious. Something knocked him out. Harry was pulled to his feet by the mysterious figure behind him while Remus darted forward. 

With a crack, Sirius’ body was gone. 

A familiar looking orb hung in mid-air. Remus sighed heavily, his arm shaking slightly, as he pointed his wand at the moon. He uttered, “ _Riddikulus!_ ” and the orb burst into confetti. 

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” a calming voice whispered into Harry’s ear. “There must have been a Boggart hiding in the clock that escaped when I blew it up.”

Harry stopped struggling against the embrace. The arms, in return, eased up their grip on him. His heart hammered so violently in his chest that he thought it was going to burst open. He dared to turn his head to see the very pale face of his godfather. Harry relaxed in his godfather’s arms and threw his head backwards to rest against Sirius’ shoulder. 

Loud footfalls sounded outside of the drawing room. No doubt, the Weasleys and Hermione had heard the commotion from upstairs and were coming to investigate. Sirius withdrew his arms from around his godson. Harry frowned and felt rather childish for not wanting the comforting embrace to end. 

“Is everyone okay?” Molly Weasley’s voice shouted as people spilled into the drawing room. 

“The grandfather clock is no longer an issue,” Sirius said in forced cheerfulness. 

“We heard Harry shouting,” Ginny breathed. 

“Yeah, he was screaming Sirius’ name,” added Ron. 

Harry didn’t have to turn around to know that all eyes were on him. His jaw clenched instantly at the unwanted attention. 

“Fine. No worries. Just the blast,” Sirius replied in a clipped tone. 

Feeling grateful to Sirius for not telling everyone he saw Sirius’ dead body as his Boggart, he turned around to face the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley had a hand over her heart. Hermione looked suspicious. The Weasley children seemed to have shrugged off what happened. 

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t know what was worse: his biggest fear being a Dementor or his biggest fear being the death of his godfather. He supposed it made sense. He could easily cast a Patronus Charm. He had driven away hundreds of Dementors in his third year when they attacked him and Sirius by the lake. There was nothing to be scared of anymore when it came to Dementors. They couldn’t affect him anymore. 

His eyes flickered to Sirius who seemed to have gained the color back in his cheeks. He joked with Fred and George while pointing at the destroyed grandfather clock. Harry never had a family before meeting Sirius. He sure as hell couldn’t and wouldn’t consider the Dursleys family. They barely tolerated his existence in their home. No, Sirius was the first person he had ever met that he considered family. A godfather who would have been more than willing to take him away from the Dursleys and raise him if Peter Pettigrew hadn’t gotten away. Even the grimy, dark, and depressing Grimmauld Place felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Home was wherever his godfather was.

A sudden panic rose in his chest at the thought of losing Sirius. He had never experienced such a paralyzing fear before. He had held out hope ever since the end of his third year that Sirius would be proven innocent and he would finally be able to leave Privet Drive forever. He couldn’t imagine that hope being ripped away from him. He couldn’t imagine the comfort of talking to Sirius being gone. His godfather was always there for him when he needed him. He lived in a cave for a year surviving off rats during the Triwizard Tournament. He lived in a house he detested just to live under the same roof as his godson. He always seemed more than willing to risk his freedom to ease Harry’s anxieties. Who would Harry turn to if Sirius wasn’t there? 

He had become so used to Sirius’ presence in his life the past year that it was hard to even imagine a time when his godfather _wasn’t_ there. It was an odd feeling as he had spent more years than not without the man. Except, Sirius made his presence so known and so accessible to Harry that it was hard to remember the years when he was in Azkaban. Harry had started to take him for granted. 

“Alright, you lot, let’s go have a drink. I could use one,” Sirius announced as he scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Are you serious right now?” Mrs. Weasley roared. “Look at this mess!” 

“Mum, didn’t you know, he _is_ Sirius,” George said with a smirk. 

“If you forgot he’s Sirius, you can always go ask his mum’s portrait. I’m sure she’d remind you,” Fred added. 

“Merlin,” Sirius breathed with a soft chuckle as he lolled his head back to stare at the yellowing ceiling. 

“Honestly?” Mrs. Weasley hummed. 

Sirius took a few steps towards Harry before wrapping an arm around his godson’s shoulders so he could steer him out of the drawing room. Harry didn’t dare look in Mrs. Weasley’s direction as he allowed his godfather to guide him out of the room. Harry vaguely wondered just how many more Boggarts were hiding in the dilapidated house. He knew that the one hiding in the grandfather clock was probably not the last of them given the state of the house. 

They made their way down the stairs to the kitchen and Harry was fairly certain that nobody had followed them. He assumed the Mrs. Weasley had roped her children and Hermione into cleaning up the mess of the exploded grandfather clock. Harry sank down into a chair at the kitchen table as Sirius busied himself making tea. He put a hefty amount of firewhiskey in his own cup before he handed Harry one. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry babbled out before he could stop himself. 

“For what?” inquired Sirius as he took a seat across from his godson and sipped his spiked tea. 

Harry didn’t know why exactly he felt embarrassed by his Boggart or why he didn’t want Sirius to know what his Boggart was. He shifted in his chair and stared down at the steam rising from his cup of tea. 

“There are a lot of people who probably have similar Boggarts,” Sirius commented when Harry failed to speak. “Not me dead specifically but… loved ones being dead.”

_Loved ones_. The phrase hung in the air between them as an awkward silence ensued. There were a ton of things that Harry wanted to say but didn’t know exactly how to say them. Surely, Sirius knew how Harry felt about him. Sirius was an odd mixture between a father and a brother to Harry. 

What if Sirius didn’t feel the same way about Harry? What if Sirius merely felt he was fulfilling his obligation to James Potter? What would Sirius see if he saw a Boggart? Would it be Harry’s dead body? Would it be something else? 

“I just… overreacted,” Harry settled on as he refused to look up. “It was stupid.” 

“I _did_ blast a grandfather clock into several pieces. You had no way of knowing it was a Boggart and not me dead from blunt force trauma due to being frustrated at a ruddy inanimate object,” Sirius commented softly. “By the way, I probably would have reacted the same way if I had seen your dead body on the drawing room floor.” 

Harry looked up at the last sentence. Sirius sat very stiff across from him with his fingers laced tightly around his cup of tea. There was an intensity in his godfather’s eyes that he couldn’t remember seeing since that night in the Shrieking Shack over a year ago.

“What’s your Boggart?” inquired Harry quietly. 

“Honestly, I could think of a few things but I’m not one hundred percent sure,” Sirius replied thickly yet truthfully. His eyes became unfocused as he stared at a spot on the table. “I think they all involve failing you in some way.” 

“Failing me?” Harry questioned with surprise evident in his tone. 

“It could very well be your dead body,” Sirius continued as his jaw tightened. “I… worry about you, certainly. It could be James shouting at me for being a failure of a godfather and hating me for letting you down more times than I can count. It could even be Dementors dragging me back to Azkaban and leaving you again.” 

Harry let the words sink in. Any hesitation that he had before about how his godfather felt about him were long gone. He felt a burst of love and affection towards the man sitting across from him. They were definitely family. Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. He quickly raised his mug to his lips to hide his grin. He didn’t want Sirius to think he was making light of his fears. He was just happy that he was a part of Sirius’ fears. When he was sure that his face was schooled appropriately, he lowered the tea. 

“I don’t think you’ve failed me,” Harry said slowly. “There was nothing you could have done after my parents died. They never gave you a trial. I know you would have raised me if you could have. You’re here now. You’ve been here for me in ways no one else has even attempted before. You lived on the grounds of Hogwarts for two years trying to protect me and ate rats. I can’t think of anyone else who would do that for me.” 

“I took some sick pleasure in eating those rats,” Sirius confessed with a grin as he glanced up to look at his godson. “I imagined each and every one of them was Peter.” 

Harry let out a loud snort, a wide grin crossing his features. A bark-like laugh escaped his godfather’s mouth. Sirius took a large gulp of his scolding tea and pulled a face as though he forgot he laced it with a hefty amount of alcohol. 

“Do you think we could get away with hiding out in the kitchen for an hour or two so you could tell me some stories about my grandparents?” asked Harry. 

“I’m sure Remus told Molly what happened and she won’t ask you to do a thing for the rest of the day,” Sirius replied with a grin. “I think if we hide out together, we’ll be left alone and not forced into house-elf work. Just start crying a little if you hear footsteps approach.” 

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically at the suggestion. 

“So, was my grandfather _really_ named Fleamont?” 

“Oh, yeah. His friends called him Monty but your grandmother affectionately called him Flea. So, naturally, Flea is what James and I referred to him as. We were cheeky little shites as kids.” 

Harry listened in fascination as he learned about Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, his grandmother being highly involved in wizarding politics as she tried to pass equality laws for everyone (he had a sneaking suspicion that his grandmother would have been thrilled with Hermione’s S.P.E.W. efforts), and about how his grandparents had found themselves in a shouting match with Walburga and Orion Black after Sirius ran away from home. 

For the first time in Harry’s life, he felt more connected to the family he never knew than he ever had. Harry felt like his connection with Sirius deepen with every bit of Potter knowledge that slipped off his tongue. Harry became very well aware of the fact that Potters were to Sirius what the Weasleys had been to Harry. For the first time since he began Hogwarts, he didn’t feel like he was most like his father. He felt like he was truly very similar to his godfather.


End file.
